


The Wolf at the Door

by Dr_Roslin



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Divorce, Double HEA, F/M, No Pregnancy, Reconciliation, Reconciliation Sex, Safe to Read if Triggered by Pregnancy, Secret Relationship, Secret Relationship Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:41:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27312070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dr_Roslin/pseuds/Dr_Roslin
Summary: Two romances for the price of one: yes, please!!Based on the following prompt from BensCalligraphySet:Han & Leia are getting a divorce (they do this every ten years. It keeps things interesting.)Rey, Han’s assistant and Ben, their son, pretend they don’t know each other even though they’ve been secretly dating for a year.https://t.co/XzTTnqXQq2— fran (@galacticidiots)October 15, 2020This prompt was so good - Han/Leia and ReyLo in one prompt - the angst, the sex, the reconciliation, the miscommunication - MUST HAVE!
Relationships: Leia Organa/Han Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 33
Kudos: 101
Collections: Galactic Idiots Collection, Reylo Prompt Fills (@reylo_prompts)





	1. Denials and Divorces

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BensCalligraphySet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BensCalligraphySet/gifts).



“You haven’t seen Ben lately, have you?”

At the sound of Leia Organa’s whisky-tipped voice, coming from not five feet from where she was crammed into a supply closet, and with Leia’s overly large and overly horny son pressing her into the wall in the small space, his hand over her mouth to make sure she stayed quiet, Rey froze.

Meanwhile, Ben’s other hand kept slipping up the edge of her thigh, heading straight underneath the hem of her sweater dress, which she’d _known_ was too short when she'd put it on this morning. Her thigh-high stockings were doing nothing to prevent the heat of his hand from seeping through, scorching her skin, and the more she tried to push his hand away – _his mother was right fucking there_ – the more it crept up, till he finally realized she was having none of it, given the iron grasp she had on his wrist. She could tell from the look in his eye, though, how impatient he was, with the entire situation, and though it may have paused momentarily, his palm still sat, heavily and possessively, on her thigh.

She couldn’t blame him for not wanting to stop what they were doing. His mother had terrible timing.

_Damn it._

_Walk away, Leia, walk away, walk AWAY._

‘Thought you weren’t speaking to me?”

Han Solo’s voice, just as deep, just as gravelly, sounded even closer, if that was possible, and Rey couldn’t help it, she almost trembled with the effort of keeping still. Her _boss_ , and incidentally the father of the heavy man she was currently stuck in a supply closet with, hadn’t been in the best of moods today, and he was now inches away from catching her crammed into the too-small space for an illicit rendezvous with his over-grown son.

Why, oh why, oh why, did they have to pick this section of the conference room to have this "conversation" in? And why, oh why, oh why, had she been so horny that she hadn’t been able to resist Ben’s unspoken invitation to fool around, an invitation that had ended with them having to sneak into this closet to begin with?

She blamed him; he was just too tempting to resist, with those stupid thighs and his stupid hair, now mussed from her hands, and those shoulders. And his lips. He definitely was to blame for the way his lips, pink and plumb and delicious, had convinced her they could sneak in a little fun in between the sparring sessions they were stuck listening to.

Until they’d heard the doorknob to the conference room rattle and they’d had to duck into the supply closet if they didn’t want to get caught. The fact that her dress had been hiked halfway up her hips by that time and that his belt-buckle had already come undone had certainly been a consideration as well.

Yup.

Totally his fault.

And now she was stuck, half-dressed and all-mussed, in a half-empty supply closet, pressed up against the boxes of extra supplies and extra chairs for this room with an excessively large man threatening to accidentally smother her just from all the oxygen he was taking up. If she wasn't in love with this man, she'd- 

Shifting a couple of inches and pressing _hard_ against his chest, she managed to catch his eye, trying to tell him with her eyes exactly how she would punish him for this discretion later, particularly given how the edge of one of the conference chairs she was wedged in with was digging painfully into her back. (Something else was digging into her front, but the item in question was always welcome…)

The bastard had the audacity to smirk at her.

_Why you son of a bitch…_

If anything, the hand covering her mouth pressed down even harder and she glared at him, meanwhile mentally willing her erstwhile boss to go _anywhere_ other than here if he wanted to scream at his wife.

Her (apparently terrible) luck held as the older couple continued to snap at each other.

‘I’m not. Speaking to you, that is. I’m simply asking if you’ve seen our son?’

‘Naturally, your _worshipness_. I wouldn’t imagine that you would stoop so low as to speak to me. Of course, your _highness_ , I would report any sighting of our grown son so that the two of you could coordinate how you’re going to continue ignoring me-‘

‘Don’t start with me, Han. Stop acting like this is my fault. You’re the one-‘

‘You know damn well why-‘

Thankfully she could tell from their voices that they’d moved away from their position in front of the door of the closet, meaning both she and Ben could relax slightly, and the chair ceased digging into her back, but her relief was short-lived given she could hear how the conference room chairs creaked as Han and Leia settled in to really go at it.

Damn it. If there ever was a couple destined to win the prize for world-class bickering, they were it. They could go on for days and probably would. In the meantime, she was stuck. And stuck with a man who didn’t deserve to hear them rehash every argument his parents had ever had.

Looking up at her companion as he listened to his estranged parents bicker away, oblivious to their presence hidden behind the cheap, thin doors, she tried to soothe him with her gaze, though he only rolled his eyes at her.

She supposed he had a point; they’d heard it all before, and they both knew it could be worse. The last time this had happened, they’d been stuck listening to Han and Leia argue about whether or not Ben had been conceived in his father’s classic car or in the _supply_ _closet_ at their wedding reception.

It had ended with Han giving a graphic play-by-play of the events in question to try to convince Leia to re-enact the scene. He'd been only too eager to ‘jog’ her memory.

They’d just engaged in an angry make-out session for twenty minutes instead.

Rey prayed that one day scientists invented a memory suppressant just so she could delete that half an hour from her brain. It would be a memory she would be well rid of it. She swore, for two people who swore up and down they never wanted to be in the same room together ever again, they spent a lot of time finding ways to be alone together. In what one might call a compromising position.

Looking up at the refrigerator-sized man nuzzling into her neck at the moment, apparently happy to ignore the steadily worsening argument they could hear going on outside their closet, she wondered idly how they’d ended up here, even if the memories of the past year flooded her brain.

***

Rey Johnson had met Ben Solo twenty minutes into her new, and very welcome, job as Han Solo’s personal assistant and general minder. She’d no idea who he was, thankfully, in that moment, and hadn't even bothered to get his name before she’d asked him out - less than a minute later. (All-you-can-eat sushi followed by a movie she still had no memory of, even now. She’d been occupied with other matters at the time.)

He’d smiled that crooked grin at her, dimples flashing and that was it, her goose was cooked.

She liked that he was quiet. She liked that he was tall. She liked that he was gentle, at least with her, though she’d heard stories that that wasn't always the case. She liked that he looked at her like she was candy and it was Halloween. He was a good listener, she discovered, understanding to boot, and though she'd often wanted to strangle him, this past year the stubborn ass, that was okay.

She was stubborn, too.

She’d decided to go home with him as he was pulling out her chair for her at the cheap chain restaurant they'd gone to that night, as he’d stood towering over her from behind. It had tuned out to be the correct decision. By the time they’d pulled into the parking garage of his condo building later, following the dinner and that forgotten movie, they’d already had sex twice.

They’d almost gotten caught the first they'd had sex, in the bathroom of the cheap sushi restaurant, a bathroom the size of which wasn’t much larger than the closet they were currently hiding in. It had been quick and dirty and rough, and she’d come harder than she’d ever thought possible. (She’d been wrong about that, as she found out in the back seat of his car after they’d left the movie theatre a few hours later.) They also almost gotten caught in the movie theatre, given how she ended up sitting up in his lap more than in the movie seat, but luckily the soundtrack had been almost obnoxiously loud, and they’d sat in the back. Still, given how her gasp had rung in her own ears when he’d stuck the second finger in, she was still surprised no one had complained. They hadn’t exactly been the model of discretion, the pair of them.

(She’d been worried they might break his massive bed that night, but thankfully it was sturdy as well as impressive. Also, thankfully, no one had remarked on the fact that she’d worn the same clothes to work the next day, though Rose had quirked an eyebrow at the oversized hoody she’d worn in place of an overcoat.) 

Realistically, the moment they’d walked into his apartment, she knew she would never really think of her own as home ever again, and that had indeed been the case.

So, she’d moved into his apartment, happily throwing caution to the wind and breaking the lease on her shit-box of a sublet, two weeks after that. It hadn’t taken much to get to that point, the two of them coming to an unspoken agreement that it was really unnecessary for her to keep paying rent when she’d already moved over the majority of her stuff. She’d never really been a nester, but somehow, she’d made herself at home in those two weeks, scattering throw pillows and stacks of books everywhere, and by the time he presented her with a key and the code for the elevator, her moving in was already a foregone conclusion. 

By unspoken agreement, they’ve decided to keep it to themselves, this last year, the fact that she was living with her boss’ son, though Ben sometimes got that look in his eye, that one that said that trouble was brewing, whenever his father chirped her about settling down.

Han hadn’t quite gotten around to trying to set her up with his son, probably because Leia had beat him to it. She’d been relentless, in her gentle persistent way, until Rey had given up and just told her the (technical) truth, that she wasn’t really looking to date anyone new right now.

Keeping their relationship quiet wasn’t a problem, generally. Ben had made it a point to distance himself, professionally, from both his parent’s fields, choosing to join neither his father’s renowned logistics empire nor his mother’s Senatorial office. Rather, he’d struck out on his own, and in his early thirties was a highly sought-after, and highly compensated, web guru.

(Honestly, Rey had little concept of what that entailed, though it didn’t really matter. Ben had told her that only 2 percent of the population understood what he did. And they had other things to talk about, anyway.)

It had been a fluke, that he’d ended up in Han’s office that day, given he only stopped by every few months. His careful distance from the drama of his parents’ lives usually made it easy for them to keep their professional and personal lives separate, and she liked that. Liked the fact that it was just for the two of them, this thing they were building, free of outside scrutiny and the incessant jokes that were likely once people found out about them.

She knew, though, that their arrangement couldn’t last forever

It wasn’t as if she didn’t realize that it was going to be harder to break the truth to their family and friends the longer they kept their living arrangements secret, but she just _liked_ it, the private world they'd created, the two of them, curled up away from the world. Even if it couldn’t last forever, that didn’t mean she was in that much of a hurry to have it end.

By some miracle, they had made it this far without anyone making a big deal out of it, and she’d no intention of letting Ben deter her from keeping this secret for a little longer. ( _Wasn’t this hotter, anyway?_ she’d asked him. _Secret relationships are so hot right now. All that sex in forbidden places._ Which had led to them being trapped in this closet, ironically.)

She’d no interest in the drama that would entail when people – and by people, she meant Han and Leia and their respective entourage and her and Ben’s respective friends – found out they were living together, and that they had been doing so for almost a year.

Yes, she’d no interest in hastening the scene that would result from that secret coming out.

Especially now.

In the meantime, she had to admit she wasn’t against cramming into closets with him per se.

He just had to find bigger ones.

Preferably in locations other than ones attached to the conference rooms of his parents’ divorce lawyer. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "If you find somebody to love in this world  
> You better hang on tooth and nail  
> The wolf is always at the door."  
> \- "New York Minute", The Eagles


	2. A Fool's Advice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would remind you all, gentle readers, that Leia Organa (Carrie Fisher) is 5ft. 1. Han Solo (Harrison Ford) is 6ft. 1.
> 
> So - 
> 
> HAWT!

It was hardly surprising that living with Han Solo had been frustrating from time to time, but Leia Organa still had no idea how they’d ended up here, in the offices of the most prestigious divorce attorneys of Coruscant. Again. For the third time. 

Despite all indications, it still hurt, always had, always _did_ , when they’d fought; at least, when they _really_ fought, with words meant to wound and glares meant to leave scars. You couldn’t be together as long as they’d been together, been through what they’d been through, together, without knowing each other - backward and forwards and well enough to know how to destroy. It hurt, more than she’d ever thought possible, hurt her more than she'd thought she'd be able to hurt and yet still keep moving. This entire process she'd thought that maybe, just maybe, if she concentrated on how angry he made her, how angry she was, she might be able to ignore the hurt, focus instead on building a wall strong enough to protect her from the barbs, from the knowing glances and the speculation that followed them everywhere. 

_Oh, it's just the Organa-Solos_ , she'd heard the receptionist remark to her colleague as Poe had walked her into the plush offices she knew better than she should. _They do this every ten years_. _I personally think it's their version of foreplay._

Fuck it.

Han had no right to look that handsome, standing there in front of her. All tall and fluffy-haired and broad-shouldered and gruff. No right to look so hurt. His face was more rugged, now, than it was in their wedding pictures, his hair more white than sandy brown, but it really didn’t matter. He had been the only man she’d ever loved when she fell in love despite herself at the tender age of 23 – looking back at that young girl, she couldn’t believe how grown-up she’d thought herself – and that had never changed.

He’d made her so angry, and he made her feel so guilty, looking down at her with that look on his face, as if she had been in the wrong, as if she was simply too stupid enough to know how she'd transgressed. So angry, she deliberately ignored all the divorce 'Rules' that had been drummed into her all these years and during all these proceedings, and had instead reached out to drag him across the hall to the empty conference room.

To knock some sense into him. 

‘Han, this is ridiculous.’

‘Oh, I see you’re talking to me, now.’

To have it out with him, once and for all.

‘Chewie tells me you’re not eating. That you’re sleeping at the office.’

Okay, maybe he hadn’t exactly told her – he’d never cross a boundary that way - more that he’d found a way to let it slip that, instead of renting a hotel or an apartment or, hell, even buying a condo, Han was sleeping at the office, crashing on the couch night after night and showering at the gym. 

‘Chewie has a big mouth.’

‘Executive washroom or not, that’s got to stop.’

They’d bought that couch together, decades ago, after one of his first major deals, when he’d made the decision to upgrade to larger offices, ones with a proper Executive Office. It had followed him since as Solo International had grown, had moved, first into its own floor and then into its own building in one of the most prestigious parts of Coruscant’s corporate centre. Though it did make her heart soften – at least a little – to picture how he hadn’t wanted to get rid of that symbol of success they'd bought together, the truth was it was decades old, and hit couldn’t be good for him to be sleeping without proper back support and that couch was no longer as firm as it might once have been. Especially given all the times they'd 'christened' it. 

He merely shrugs, though, turning to walk away from her and saunter to take in the view from the conference room, conveniently putting the length of the massive boardroom table between them.

‘You’re impossible,’ she sighs, not knowing if he hears her or not.

‘So, you’ve said. Many, many, many times,’ he says, though, and if she could see the entirety of the front of his face, she might almost swear that the high smile for which he was justly famous had popped out, though she can see from the drop of his shoulders that he was tired, perhaps even as tired as she was, as they stood once again in this office, whose shiny surfaces couldn't fully disguise the reality of their failure to grow together.

‘I don’t know why you’re doing this.’

_Why does he look so tired, all of sudden? Why does he suddenly seem to bear the weight of all his years?_

‘Oh, you know exactly why where we’re here, Princess,’ he told her, the edge one she didn’t recognize, as he moved to perch on the edge of the table, seemingly too tired to both deal with her and expend the energy to stay on his own two feet.

‘Honestly, I don’t. I know we haven’t seen eye-to-eye lately, but, honestly, when have we ever? That’s never stopped us before.’

It had always been part of their dynamic; the fighting that preceding the fucking. Every couple was different, and they’d always been passionate, in their disagreements and in their make-up sessions. They’d kept it under control, for the most part, while Ben had been younger, before he’d gone away to university, but ever since then – well, they’d never had to worry about ‘empty-nest’ syndrome, they’d always been too busy either bickering or making up.

The week before this bust-up, she’d been low-key making fun of the way he’d picked out two mismatched socks as they’d sat together on the couch when he’d suddenly reached over to kiss her so fiercely she’d thought they were on their honeymoon again. The next thing she’d known, she’d been sitting in his lap. (She’d very fond memories of that night.) This coldness, this distance – it wasn’t them at all. As a general rule, even their divorce proceedings – hell, _especially_ their divorce proceedings, were passionate.

‘Never stopped us before, eh? Really, not the previous two times we’ve been here before?’

‘Never this far, Han.’

And never at his instigation. She thinks that’s why it worries her if she’s being honest with herself. The two times they’ve been in this office before, she’d been the one to start it – mainly since he'd made her so bloody angry.

This time it had been him and it had blindsided her, the notification from Poe’s office. She’d been in shock for hours, unable to do much but stare out the window, an unforgotten glass of water by her hand. He’d actually done it. She couldn’t believe it, but Han had actually done it. He’d filed the paperwork. He’d actually filed for an official separation, indicating he intended to file for divorce. She’d-

He’d actually done it.

And she’d no idea why.

She was so angry, in that moment, and so determined to hold onto her pride, that she’d never been able to overcome her initial reluctance to ask him why. 

She’d hadn’t the chance since, mainly since they’d only seen each other since in these offices. And every time she’d caught his eye, saw him out of the corner of her own, passed him in the hallway, saw a flash of the fabric of his suit, she’d wanted to scream at him.

_Why?_

‘No,’ he said quietly, not looking her in the eye. ‘Never this far.’

He stood again suddenly, wandering over to look at the big bay windows on the south end which overlooked the river and the city, his hands in his pockets and that stubborn, set, stupid look on his face. Like a badger with a sore paw, he was, when he got that look on his face. Impossible to move and impossible to ignore, the wounded look more telling than anything else.

She wished she trusted herself to shake him.

‘And our son? Maybe you want to tell him why you’re doing this?’

‘He hasn’t asked.’

_And neither have you._

It hung in the air, the unspoken statement; the unspoken questions that followed as loud as the room was quiet.

_Why haven’t you?_

_Are you going to? Ask me?_

She could practically hear him screaming it at her. She wanted to, god knows, it haunted her, and every day she got closer and closer to breaking down and shoving her pride aside long enough to ask the question that dogged their every move. It was just – the thought of knowing the answer to that particular question was in many ways more painful than the shock to her system she’d gotten when the courier had served her with the divorce papers in her office that morning, all those months ago.

She hadn't even been paying attention, that morning, she was served with so many summonses on a regular basis - as an expert witness, mainly - she'd signed for it without really reading it as the courier had pronounced the phrase she's sure he'd spoken a million times that week. 

_'Leia Organa, I hereby serve you -'_

A part of her was still in shock, she felt, a shock equaled only by the desperate fear which clutched at her belly.

_What if it’s what I fear it is, the answer to that question?_

She couldn’t help it, the fear and anxiety running around in circles in her brain, keeping her from sleeping, keeping from moving forward with this whole process. She knows it would help, clarify issues, make it easier for them to discuss the elephants that took up so much oxygen in this room that she was convinced they didn’t even have enough room to breathe.

It was just – what if the answer to that question is the answer she’d feared most.

What if the answer to that question – of why he’d left, of why they stood in these gilt offices, of why he was putting them all through this – was a simple one?

What if it was just that he didn’t love her anymore?

Leia Organa was also keenly aware that living with her must be frustrating, from time to time.

What if Han had just decided that it was easier to live without her? There had to people with whom it would be easier to live with, be with, be around. She’s well aware that sometimes he wants to strangle her every bit as much as sometimes she wants to strangle him; maybe he’s just tired of the effort of being around her, all the time. She finds it hard to imagine Han leaving her to pursue anyone else, even a younger, more beautiful someone else, finds it even harder to imagine that he might already have. Still, even that is less painful than the thought that won't stop rattling around in her brain; that maybe he just decided that it would be easier just to be on his own for a while. Without her constant haggling and nagging and need.

Deflecting, she kept her eyes focused firmly on her hands, folded quietly in front of her.

No. She may be a coward, but she can’t bear to hear the answer to that question right now. Can’t bear to know if she’s right. They can leave it, for now. Until she builds up a bit more nerve.

‘You notice how Ben looks at her? Your assistant? Rey?’

‘Leia. How could I not notice? He’s not exactly subtle.’

‘He’s your son.’

There’s that Solo grin, crooking up at the corner, transforming his face as it always does.

‘Damn straight.’

‘Damn straight.’

‘You can track her movements, you know, if you wanted. Just by watching his eyes.’

She rolled her eyes, despite herself. Her son was so oblivious to the way that everyone could read his every move. He was smitten on Rey Johnson, and the least of it was the way he couldn’t keep his eyes off of her no matter where she’d gone and no how long it had been since he’d seen her last. The last time they’d all been here, Rey had brushed his hand with hers as she'd passed him a coffee mug, and Leia’s pretty sure even that small touch had led to her son’s head combusting. 

‘He does stare,’ she said, smirking in understanding at him at their shared sympathy with the youngsters.

 _Idiots_.

‘He may be my son, but he’s yours too, Princess.’

‘Meaning?’

‘All intensity. All fire.’

‘Something we share,’ she ventured, looking at him. _Meaning_ him.

There was a reason they’d always been as passionate in the boardroom as they were in the bedroom. There was a reason they’d spent as much time fighting as some people spent cuddled up on couches together. There was a reason they’d always found their way back to one another. There was a reason they’d always sparked off of each other. They’d always been a matched pair, in intensity, in fire, in stubbornness and temperament, no matter how it looked to some from the outside, this seemingly strange pairing of the society princess and the pilot who made an entire life from the ground up.

The fire had always been there; she’d used to think they’d found a way to incorporate the softness in there, as well, though these last few months had certainly tested that theory. 

‘Yeah.’

Fuck, she missed him. 

‘Han-’

Despite herself, damn it, the truth was, she _missed_ her fluffy-haired, impossible, charming run-in-where-others-would-fear-to-tread rogue of a husband. It had been almost forty years at this point, but she was still fascinated at every moment contemplating what he might do.

‘Anyway, I’d thought I might give him a push.’

‘Are you nuts? Han-’

‘Don’t worry, he’s already told me off.’

She looks over at him as they share a laugh at how stubborn their son is and it strikes her like a blow; how much she misses this. How much she misses him. In her life. In their home. In her bed. At the end of a long day and in the first light of morning as the sun stole in and charmed his face. At her table drinking her coffee, complaining about using the fancy china, not knowing she’d chosen it just to make him grumble and to enjoy the way it sat in his hand so much larger than hers, his palm and those long fingers dwarfing the tiny cup. 

‘What he’d say?’ she asks, picturing Ben’s reaction in her mind.

‘That I’d done a good enough job messing up my own love life. That I should stay the hell out of his.’

‘Han-’

‘He also told me he wasn’t interested in Rey, but obviously, I don’t believe him. The way that boy ogles her the moment she steps foot in the room.’

‘Not exactly subtle.’

‘Not exactly. That’s why I asked him if he was dead or just blind.’

‘I’m impressed he didn’t throw something at you.’

‘I’m impressed he didn’t throw a punch at me. Anyway, for a man who pretends not to notice her, he’s very protective of that girl.’

She smirked.

‘He is your son.’

‘He is. Give him time; he’ll get there.’

‘Really? You sure you want to play that card? You’re not exactly known for being patient,’ she reminded him as she laughed full-out, deciding to confess her own attempts at matchmaking. ‘When I brought it up with Rey, she told me she wasn’t interested in dating anyone new right now.’

‘How _stupid_ do they think we are?’ He was almost offended, clearly, that their himbo son and the small fierce love he'd found couldn’t see what everyone else in the room could – there was something growing there, a connection impossible to deny.

‘I don’t know, Han. How stupid are we?’

She couldn’t deny it anymore, couldn’t keep pretending that this wasn’t ripping her apart from the inside. Taking a deep breath, looking at the only man she’d loved, the only man stubborn enough to break through her walls enough to see the real her, to see her vulnerabilities and her flaws and her strengths, the only man to see it all and love her anyway, she knew what she had to do, knew she had to push.

‘Leia-‘

‘Tell me. Tell me how to fix this. Tell me I still can. Tell me what the hell happened and how the hell we can walk our way back from this.’

‘Leia-'

_Tell me you’ve never stopped. Loving me. Please. Tell me you never could. Tell me it’s not too late. That you might love me again._

_Please._

Standing in front of him, she tried to force him to look down at her from his height, even as he stubbornly kept his hands locked tight in his pockets. She thought she might have finally gotten him to listen and, praying to all the gods she was never sure she still believed in, she looked up into his craggy face and poured all the love of which she was possible into her eyes.

_Please._

_Please._

_Please, please, please._

‘Listen - Princess-‘

She almost screamed with Poe Dameron walked in the room without knocking, _just_ as she was getting somewhere.

_For fuck’s sake._

Hearing the growl coming from the man standing at her back, but choosing to ignore it, she looked over at her lawyer and, ignoring the look of shock on his handsome face after finding his clients locked closer to each other than they had been months, she let out her frustration.

Staring at the boy she'd known since the day his parents had brought him home, she stood suddenly, glaring until he backed slowly, hands up, back out the door.

‘Get out, Dameron.’

Apparently deciding that discretion was the better part of valour, he made haste to do so, the squeak of the conference room door the only indication he’d been there at all.

She followed him the length of the conference room, pausing as he let himself out, before reaching down sharply.

To lock the door behind him.

Turning to stare at the love of her life, she noted he'd watched, though he'd taken a seat at the table, pushing back so he could prop his feet up on the radiators that ran under the windows that ran the length of the room.

Perfect.

It was time to end this.

Walking slowly towards him, her eyes on his the entire time she did so, she walked slowly to stand beside his chair, so close she could touch him without reaching out her hand.

She was tired and she wanted her love back.

It was time to fix this.

Taking her life into her hands, she moved to sit in his lap, breathing a sigh of relief as he moved to wrap his arms around her much smaller frame to hold her in place. Curling herself into his broad chest, she felt herself take a full breath for the first time in longer than she could remember.

 _Home_.

'What can I do? To fix this?'

She feels the sigh reverberate all the way through him.

Turning her head to look up at her husband, Leia found him looking down at her fondly.

‘You do have your moments,' he grumbled quietly, the deep bass of his voice rumbling through her. 

_Was that hope?_

She’d almost forgotten what it felt like.

‘Han?’

‘I don’t know why I bother being mad at you, Princess, you’re the only one for me, even when you piss me off. Which is always,’ he grumbled at her, even as he leaned down to kiss her softly on the lips, a kiss that turned hot and possessive within seconds.

By the time they broke apart, they were both breathing heavily and Leia felt freer than she had in months. There was simply something about that man’s kisses that had always made her feel like she could fly. 

‘Call off your dogs, Leia. You and I are going to talk about our future, one in which I don’t always have to come home to an empty house for months on end, and then we’ll see if Dameron can recommend a good marriage counselor.’

She wasn’t sure she was understanding the words coming out of that man correctly, even if he seemed to be speaking English. Smiling archly, she confirmed that he was in fact proposing what she thought he was proposing.

‘You mean – ‘

There was a gruffness to his tone that failed to camouflage the tenderness in his eyes as he looked at her.

‘Believe it or not, I can talk about feelings, your worshipfulness, though I’m only willing to do it for you.’

Tilting her head, she stared as she processed all this new information about her scruffy rogue of a husband.

‘I guess I can try talking about feelings, too, if that’s what it takes.’

Even if they both had to hold their nose throughout the entire process.

‘I’m more concerned about the other thing you said – about empty houses and our future.’

How had she forgotten how sad he could look with just his eyes?

‘I’m used to coming in second to your work, Leia, I’ve been doing it for almost forty years. I'm just not sure how much longer I can keep doing it if you aren’t willing to at least try to make it seem like you need me at home after a long day.’

_Oh._

_Oh_.

She had made a muck of it, hadn’t she? Reaching out to grasp his face in one of her hands, her other still holding his tightly, she clung to the lifeline he’d given her.

‘There’s no home without you, Han. So, yes, let’s plan our future.’

'Ah, Leia. Sometimes I do love you.'

She smiles into his chest.

Yes.

 _Home_.

'I know.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I love you all, and because it sparked a large part of this, here's a preview of the final chapter: 
> 
> Poe: So, are your parents getting divorced or not?  
> Ben: Shouldn’t you know? You’re her lawyer.  
> Poe: Well, for people who claimed to have done this before, they really suck at it.  
> Rey: Oh?  
> Poe: They’re making out in the conference room right now.  
> Ben: This is my shocked face. 
> 
> As always, come see me at [@RandomBks](https://twitter.com/RandomBks)  
> "You better take a fool's advice  
> And take care of your own  
> 'Cause one day they're here;  
> Next day they're gone."  
> \- "New York Minute", The Eagles


End file.
